


Look At Me

by eievuiisms



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Graphic Description, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eievuiisms/pseuds/eievuiisms
Summary: An AU where Jack receiving his scar also results in him slowly mutating. Angel is forced to deal with the creature that is her father firsthand.





	Look At Me

**Author's Note:**

> this was 100% self indulgent im ngl lolll

When one proclaimed their parent was a monster, it was usually because they did monstrous things, like intentionally harm or even kill others. This wasn’t quite the case for Angel. When she thought of her father as a monster, it was quite literally because he was a monster. 

She had been incredibly young when her father had come home with a large and nasty injury across his face. Her mother had tried to keep her from seeing it, but the little girl had been so excited to see her dad again that she hadn’t even cared that a chunk of his flesh was missing, that blood vessels and muscle tissue was exposed, that the wound was likely infected. She paid no mind to how her mother seemed horrified and disgusted, a hand over her mouth, as her grey eyes stared at her husband’s disfigured face. She was just happy that her dad was finally home.

 

There was no definitive moment where she realized that something was genuinely wrong with her father - looking back, it was more like several smaller moments over the course of years.

One day, her father’s fingers just seemed longer than normal, as if someone had purposely yanked on them until they were stretched, the knuckles seeming oddly prominent, almost seeming as if the very skin around them would overstretch and tear if he wasn’t careful. And though she couldn’t properly recall, there was a part of her that believed it actually  _ had _ at one point.

One day, his fingers seemed less like fingers, and more like gnarled claws that seemed both sharp and jagged, that looked like they belonged to the old creatures that’d occasionally plague her nightmares. And oh, how many times had she dreamed of that hand covered in blood, with a body that looked like it had been ravaged by the claws of an animal. No matter how many times she had that dream, she never was able to recognize the face.

One day, he seemed taller. He kept bumping his head on the door frames and cussing, and she noticed that his legs seemed longer and thinner. Actually, everything about him seemed to be growing longer and thinner by the day. She could remember seeing his ribs poking out from under skin that had visible veins and seemed desaturated, as if it were the flesh of a corpse. And god, his feet. They didn’t even look human. They were far more akin to a sort of avian than a human foot.

One day, his neck seemed to have this ability to just... _ extend _ . And the veins in it were visible and they sometimes looked as if though they pulsed and Angel avoided looking for too long lest she get sick.

One day, she noticed all the purple boils that formed along his skin. And she wondered on more than one occasion if they’d burst and bleed radiated violet ooze, and, if so, dreaded the day that they would.

One day, her dad’s face simply didn’t look human. It looked more like some reptilian creature than human, and he wore the mask to cover it. And when she spoke to him, she never looked him in the eye, but she did have difficulty in choosing which mouth to stare at when he was speaking directly to her.

One day, he just did not look like the father she had once cherished as a child.

 

Angel hated when he came down to visit her. She hated looking at him. It was so much easier speaking to him over the ECHO, even if she had to tune out the distortion of his voice, because it meant she didn’t have to face the fact that he was an absolute freak. But when he came down, she couldn’t do that. She was forced to look at him, because she knew he’d get angry with her if she didn’t. But with every visit, it was harder and harder to stomach looking at him. It was hard to look at this creature and remind herself that it was meant to be her father. It eventually reached the point where one visit, she had to avert her gaze just to tolerate him standing in her chamber.

 

“Angel,” he said, only a mere few seconds after she had lowered her gaze to the floor. She tried to resist the shudder that went down her spine at the way he said it, with little success. “Angel,” he repeated, “Look at me.” She heard him, but she didn’t respond - her lips were too tightly pressed together, her throat feeling as if though a too large lump was in it. “I said,  _ look at me _ ,” he snarled, making her inhale out of shock and fear.

“I don’t want to,” she said before she could even stop herself, and immediately regretted it once silence fell over the room. It was quiet, but the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. She wasn’t looking at him, but she knew how he must’ve looked - offended, enraged; maybe even hurt, if it was possible for him to still feel any emotional pain.

“...Excuse me?” he finally said, his tone sounding incredibly displeased.

“I-I’m sorr-”

“Nononono - repeat what you said. What did you say to me?”

“I - I said...I don’t want to.” She swallowed, tears beginning to form in her eyes and her body beginning to quiver. She could feel the beginning of a panic attack coming on, but she was trying really hard to keep it together. She finally forced herself to look up at him - and froze up when she saw that his masked face wasn’t particularly that far away from her, his neck extended - as it usually was whenever he was pissed off. “Again, I’m - I’m so, so sorry-”

“Do you think I  _ like _ looking like this?” She was staring at that mouth of his - the one that looked at if though it was coming out from beneath his mask; the one that was filled with long, sharp teeth and a snake-like tongue; the one that always seemed to have saliva spilling from it whenever she looked. “ _ Answer me _ ,” he snapped, making her flinch.

“No, s-sir, I d-”

“Are you  _ scared _ of me, Angel?” His tone sounded hurt - but she was sure he wasn’t feeling anything of that sort. She knew he was probably just trying to get her to feel guilty. But god, it was hard to feel bad for being scared when that - that  _ thing _ was staring back at her.

“Yes,” she said - again, before she could stop herself - in a panicked tone, and looking away again. “Yes, I-”

“Angel, you know I hate repeating myself. Look. At-”

“No.”

 

She heard a snarl, and before she could even tense up to brace herself, she suddenly felt herself being struck across the face, contorted nails scraping against her cheek. She cried out at she fell onto the floor from the force of the blow, her breaths soon coming out in gasps. She heard him cuss, and she had thought it was just because he had been aggravated, but she soon noticed blood droplets on the floor. Her eyes widened, and a shaky hand reached up, fingertips brushing her cheek. When she looked, there was blood on them. She brushed her whole hand along her cheek, as if she didn’t believe what she’d seen, but she looked again, and there was blood covering her whole palm.

“Angel.” Her heart jumped at how close the voice sounded, and she instinctively tried to back away. “Hey, hey-” She froze up when she felt a hand on her shoulder - but it wasn’t a grip; it was a light touch. “It’s okay, sweetie.” His tone was gentle. Too gentle, she noted, which didn’t help her already quickened breathing. “Shush - it’s alright.” No, it wasn’t - he was just trying to make her think it was alright. She knew that. She knew that. She knew- “Angel.” Another hand carefully cupped her chin, and she shut her eyes tightly. “Angel, please look at me.”

Her heart was pounding so hard that there was absolutely no way he  _ couldn’t _ hear it, and she really, really did not want to look at him. And yet, she opened up her eyes anyway, and was met with...well, the mask couldn’t convey expressions properly these days, but his body language seemed more relaxed than it had. And she hated that seeing him calm made her calm as well, but it did.

“I know it’s scary,” he said, his voice quiet, “Trust me - I know. But I’m still your father.” She didn’t say anything - and from the looks of it, he didn’t particularly expect her to. The hand cupping her chin moved to the cheek with the lacerations along it, grossly elongated fingers carefully skimming just underneath the wounds. “I didn’t mean to,” he murmured. “I hope you know that.”

The girl knew he was just saying that. That he didn’t actually feel bad. That he just said that so that she’d be less scared of him. And, unfortunately, it was working, because she found herself nodding, and saying, “I know.”


End file.
